


The Fine Line Between Heaven & Hell

by sos_blimek25



Category: Toaru Kagaku no Railgun | A Certain Scientific Railgun
Genre: Action, Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Pirates, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sos_blimek25/pseuds/sos_blimek25
Summary: [Pirate!/Fantasy AU] Shokuhou Misaki is a noble who starts a new life after being kidnapped by a band of pirates. She meets Misaka Mikoto, the pirate captain who is mysterious, strangely charming, and treats her with unexpected kindness...Perhaps this is the life Misaki wanted all along.
Relationships: Misaka Mikoto/Shokuhou Misaki
Comments: 26
Kudos: 105





	1. This is Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm excited to finally share my Pirate AU with you all. If you follow me on Twitter (@ level5less) you know I've been working on it for a while...
> 
> The story will be split into three longer chapters. Please enjoy more MikoMisa!

**Chapter 1: This is Hell**

“Where am I?”

Misaki’s voice was barely recognisable to her own ears. The sound crackled like dry leaves and her throat felt brittle as if burnt to a crisp. It hurt to speak. She coughed and cleared her throat, but that only worsened the pain.

Slowly, she lifted her head, and a flash of fear ran through her body. She did not recognise this place. The room was lightless, cramped, and built with wooden planks. There was a single door across from her, with a few steps leading up to it. Besides the dust coating the floorboards, there was not an ounce of decor. The room had been abandoned long ago.

So what was Misaki doing here?

She did not want to sit amongst the filth. Misaki leaned forward but something pulled her from behind, holding her in place. With gritted teeth, she squirmed and tried to break free, but to no avail. Her hands were tied around her back, tied to a pole that ran through the centre of the room. The more she struggled, the more the rope dug into her wrists and burnt against her skin. Reluctantly, she went slack, accepting defeat.

There was a brewing sickness in her stomach. She stared at the floor, and only then did she notice it swaying. Tilting. Bobbing ever so slightly. There was the faint sound of rushing water from below.

She was on a boat.

And that’s when her memories came staggering back to her.

Shokuhou Misaki was a noble. She was flanked daily by servants who waited on her hand and foot, guards who protected her at every waking moment. She loved that luxurious, pampered life, but it lacked excitement. There was no privacy, no freedom, and every day was the same as the last. A part of her always longed for something more, something wild and unexpected — even to catch a glimpse of something like that would ease her curious heart.

So, one evening she slipped out of her family’s estate and went for a stroll on the docks. Something as simple as that was exhilarating. The midday sun, hot on her skin, the smell of freshly baked goods wafting through the marketplace, the personal space. It was as refreshing as the cool, ocean breeze that drifted through her hair.

Misaki furrowed her eyebrows. After that… there was some sort of scuffle at the docks. Loud gunshots and shouting. The crowd suddenly erupted into a panic, and Misaki was too dizzy to escape. There was a pair of hands on her back, pain, and then… darkness.

Misaki had been kidnapped. By who? And for what reason?

Her heartbeat quickened, but she steadied her breath, trying to go over the facts. Her kingdom was in a time of peace, and the neighbouring territories would have no benefit from taking her prisoner. If anything, it would only start new conflicts.

Back at home, Misaki avoided public appearances and work as much as possible. She left the political affairs to her parents, and their power meant they naturally had lots of enemies. Was Misaki’s capture meant to hurt her family? Was it a bargaining chip?

But that didn’t seem right. Taking her in broad daylight was too risky, and Misaki was unguarded by pure chance — her captors would have had to know in advance if that was the plan.

Her capture likely wasn’t premeditated. It seemed impulsive as if taking advantage of the chaos that broke out. Some sort of third party with an eye for crime and opportunity, someone who didn’t need to know who Misaki was.

That meant it was most likely…

Pirates.

The door suddenly opened, and heavy boots descended into the room. The wood creaked as if their presence demanded attention, demanded recognition, and Misaki looked up.

A lone woman stood there with her arms folded across her chest. Her billowing white shirt was so soiled it barely looked the colour, and her dark pants tucked into her high boots. An elegant, embellished coat sat square upon her shoulders, that looked befitting for a nobleman. And she was covered head to toe in an abundance of jewellery. Earrings, necklaces, bangles and rings, there was so much gold she shimmered even in the dim chamber.

The woman had even facial features, long lashes, and a bright shine in her eyes. Perhaps in the past, she could have even been beautiful. But as she stood then, her skin was sea weathered, her lips cracked, and her hazelnut hair tousled. She was a young woman, no older than Misaki, but she had endured much more than the sheltered noble.

There was no mistaking it.

She was a pirate.

She was Misaka Mikoto, captain of the Tokiwadai. She was not personally responsible for Misaki’s capture, however — one of her crew members made the split-second decision to take her when a fight broke out at the docks. Needless to say, Mikoto was quite pleased when she recognised her as a noble.

“So,” Mikoto stepped into the room. “A little birdie told me you’d go for quite the price.”

A chill ran down Misaki’s spine. She had not encountered pirates before, but the tales she heard made her skin crawl. Filthy, low-life criminals that pillaged and killed in search of wealth and treasure. Outcasts of society that lived without rules, without morals, without grace. They disgusted her. And being in the presence of such a person was humiliating — she couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

“What do you want from me?” Misaki spat.

“Relax.” Mikoto put up a hand. “We won’t hurt you. We’re taking you to our hideout until your kingdom pays up and collects you.”

“Who are you?”

“The captain of this ship. You’ll have an easier time if we get along.”

“Tch.” Misaki rolled her eyes. “Ruffians like you deserve no manners.”

Mikoto was unfazed. She crouched onto her knees, now at eye-level with Misaki. “What’s your name, miss?”

Misaki could smell tobacco and alcohol on the woman’s clothes. If she got any closer, she was sure she would retch. She wanted to shove her, to spit in her face — the pirate deserved it, but that would not be elegant. She bit her tongue, holding onto a thread of composure.

Mikoto tilted her head. She was growing impatient. “Nothing?”

Even after gazing into those unexpectedly warm, brown eyes, Misaki didn’t budge. Mikoto frowned. Without another word, she turned and left, the door locking shut behind her.

The room went quiet once more, and Misaki deflated in the immediate absence of her presence. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding and looked up at the ceiling.

This was hell.

* * *

“Taking prisoners really isn’t my style.”

Mikoto sighed, slumping over the railing of the ship. With a meek expression on her face, she gazed off into the horizon, as the sight of the ocean often comforted her.

“Your troubles will be paid for in gold. Chin up.” That woman was Shirai Kuroko — her first mate, and most beloved friend. There was no need to keep up a tough facade around her since she could read Mikoto like a book. As her twin tails blew in the wind, her eyes stayed trained on her captain.

“I feel bad for her,” Mikoto said.

Kuroko huffed. “Onee-sama, as much as I admire that kind heart of yours, it may someday be your downfall. This is but a means to an end. We may finally be debt-free after this.”

“That would be nice.” Just hearing the words “debt-free” sounded too good to be true, like a distant dream. Mikoto hummed. “Who knew repairs could be so expensive?”

“Honestly,” Kuroko shook her head. “I can’t believe you attacked an allied ship. Only you would be capable of such a blunder.”

“And I will _not_ make that mistake twice.”

Kuroko giggled, and Mikoto smiled back, her heart already feeling better just being in the presence of such a dear friend.

Meanwhile, Misaki was alone. She spent the next few hours listening to the muffled voices beyond the door, wondering, dreading if anyone would come in. It was hard to tell how much time was passing — little sunlight reached this room, and the constant swaying of the boat was disorientating.

The boat suddenly lurched. There was a loud bang, and Misaki was thrown forward. Her wrists tensed against the restraints, sending a wave of pain through her body.

“What in the world…? Did we hit a— _ack!”_

It lurched again, throwing Misaki in the other direction. Her head slammed against the wooden pole behind her, her mind spinning and her vision flickering out for a second.

There was an uproar of voices, distant but desperate. The rumbling of footsteps in all directions, along with the shouting of commands. A commotion began to boil — confirmation that something bad was happening, and Misaki’s heart started to race.

“What’s happening? What was that?”

There were no servants to answer Misaki’s questions.

There was another, powerful shudder and the boat nearly tipped over. Misaki was thrown to the side, and she would’ve skidded along the floor if not for her restraints. As she winced and got a hold of her bearings, she heard the splintering of wood, so loud and grating it echoed in her skull.

A gaping hole had appeared in the wall next to her. A hole about half her height, that revealed the murky depths of the ocean beyond — you know, the ocean filled with _water_.

There was a cold spray against her face as the water came rushing through, splashing against the floor. It began to pool at her feet, threatening to eat up the rest of her body if she didn’t do something soon. Sweat dripped down the side of her face.

“A-Ah. Um. That’s not good,” she whimpered.

Misaki looked left and right, left and right, but there was nothing to help her. The room was flooding. She needed to get out. She tugged and tugged, her fingers clawing at the ropes, it exhausted her. But they did not budge.

She dug her heels into the ground and pushed herself to stand, shuffling her arms up the pole. Her legs shook beneath her, barely holding her weight. She tried again, pulling with the force of her whole body against the ropes.

It was no use.

“Are you— are you kidding me!?”

The water showed no mercy. Her knees were completely submerged in icy cold seawater. She didn’t have much time, she needed to do something, anything.

“H-Help!”

It was foolish. These people had captured her, tied her up. Misaki had not forgotten that.

“Water — there’s water down here!”

But the water was gaining on her, she was stuck and she was going to drown. She was going to die.

“You don’t want your prisoner to drown, do you!?”

The rushing water consumed her cries too, and her words fell on deaf ears. No one answered her call. The water was at her hip now, and she could barely look anymore. She closed her eyes. What could she do? She struggled and struggled, but could not move. She closed her eyes and prayed, prayed to make amends for every sin she had ever committed, prayed for just one miracle—

—and the door burst open.

Misaka Mikoto.

She stood panting in the doorway. The ship had taken some nasty hits, and if anything was damaged, it would be here in the hold. Her intuitions were correct. Still, she did not expect to see the room already so flooded.

Misaki’s eyes met Mikoto’s, despair written all over her face, and that was all she needed to spring into action. Mikoto’s body moved on its own as she leapt from the doorway into the room. Pushing against the water was exhausting — despite the waves threatening to engulf them both, Mikoto showed no signs of slowing.

By the time she reached Misaki, the water was up to her belly. “Hold still,” Mikoto said.

She pulled a curved blade from her waist and Misaki instinctively seized up. Mikoto reached around her, handling the blade with fine precision. With a jagged, saw-like motion, she sliced through the rope, and it drifted away in the water.

Misaki yanked herself free and Mikoto threw an arm around her shoulder, dragging her towards the doorway. The water, like a cluster of hands, pulled and tugged at their clothing. It weighed them down, calling them into the depths below — but the women fought through with gritted teeth, resisting until they reached the doorway.

Mikoto pushed Misaki through first and slammed the door behind them. They were in the hold, the lowest part of the ship. The supplies that were kept here could be replaced later, but lives could not. Mikoto grabbed Misaki by the arm and tugged her towards the wooden staircase across the way.

“This way!”

She did not stop running until they emerged onto the main deck of the ship, the evening sunlight beating down upon them. As Mikoto released her, Misaki collapsed onto her knees, catching her breath. Her heart was pounding in her throat, her fingers shaking — but, the ship was still rumbling, the crew around her in a panic — this was no time to take a break.

There was a wet slapping sound, as loud as the crackling of thunder as something large slammed down onto the deck. A giant tentacle covered in algae and seaweed slithered against the wood, leaving a thick, slimy trail behind. Its suckers twitched as if breathing. A similar, wiggling tentacle rose out of the water beside it, and then another one. And another one.

Misaki watched in horror as dozens of tentacles suddenly surrounded the boat.

A hand rested on her back.

“Get to the Crow’s Nest,” Mikoto said.

Misaki glanced at her, and then at the centre mast of the ship. That platform at the top was the crow’s nest, right? She wasn’t familiar with boats, but she had read that somewhere. She gulped. There was a long, netted rope that hung from beneath it which looked to be the only way up. She guessed it was 30 metres above the ground. If she made one misstep, if she fell…

“I-I can’t climb that,” she said, her face turning white.

“You what?”

“I can’t!”

“Oh, for…” Mikoto swallowed her words. Then, with a running start, she leapt onto the net and held out a hand. “Come on!”

A shadow raised above Misaki’s head. She glanced up and was met with rows of twitching, wet suckers. She barely scurried out of the way before a tentacle slammed down, rocking the floor. As it reared back, its sticky surface prying away from the floorboards, her insides squirmed.

Misaki scrambled to her feet and dashed for Mikoto. She climbed onto the ropes, but this was not grounded like a ladder or a staircase — no, this rope was loose and swung with the shifting of her weight. With the tilting of the ship, she could not keep up, and she slipped.

“Eek!”

Mikoto caught her by the wrist. She yanked her upwards with gritted teeth, and Misaki squirmed to find her footing.

“Don’t let go!” Mikoto shouted. Tears welled up in Misaki’s eyes.

This was hell, this was seriously hell.

With Mikoto’s help, Misaki made gradual progress. The wind whipped about her hair as they climbed higher, and the occasional spit of water got in her eyes. Blinking them away, she kept pushing onward and upward. The deck below grew further and further away. She tried not to look down, as it would only make her miss the feeling of solid ground. She had taken it for granted.

After an eternity of climbing, Misaki reached the bottom of the crow’s nest. There were no footholds to help with her ascent, and her stomach swelled with despair.

“How… how am I going to get up there?” she panted.

Mikoto let go of Misaki’s wrist, and for a moment, she faltered. Her heart skipped a beat as she clung to the ropes for dear life. She opened her mouth to yell at the other woman, but when she looked up, she paused.

Mikoto grabbed the edge of the crow’s nest and vaulted herself over. She made it look so easy it was almost charming. Her coat fluttered behind her as she leaned over the edge with outstretched hands. She didn’t need to call that time — Misaki immediately leapt up towards her.

Mikoto caught her and pulled her over the edge. Misaki was thrown onto the deck of the crow’s nest, landing with a skidding thud.

“Stay here, okay?” Mikoto threw a glance over her shoulder.

Despite the creaking of her ship, the thrashing waves and that creature attacking — despite just about everything going wrong, Mikoto stood strong. Her voice was unwavering, her gaze determined, and her spirit unbreakable.

For a moment — a moment that passed with the blink of an eye — Misaki was in awe.

Mikoto jumped off the edge, swinging down to the deck below with a three-point landing. Just like that, she was gone.

* * *

The captain stood at the boat’s edge with a sword drawn. Not the scimitar she had used to cut Misaki’s ropes, no, this had a long and thin blade with a shimmering hilt. Mikoto wielded the blade like it was an extension of herself. It sliced through the air, chipping away at any tentacles that came too close. Though she was barely piercing the skin of the Kraken, it stung enough for the tentacles to recoil every time.

This defence was only temporary, of course. Compared to the damage the Kraken had dealt to the ship, this was not enough to take it down.

Her crew scrambled in all directions, some below to fix the leakage, some across the deck. Countless others, wielding weapons of different shapes and sizes, stood alongside Mikoto to fight.

The boat rumbled and there was a bright flash. A bang. A cloud of smoke puffed up from the sides of the ship. Mikoto wiped the sweat off her forehead and breathed a sigh of relief — the cannons.

One tentacle was wrapped tightly around the centre of the ship. At the first cannon blast, it flinched and unfurled. Mikoto leapt towards it, swinging the blade overhead, and sliced it in half. Blue Kraken blood sprayed against the deck, and the remaining half recoiled in panic.

As the tentacle writhed in pain, it slammed into Mikoto. She was sent flying, the air knocked from her lungs as her back collided with the mainmast. Spit trickled down her chin as she crumpled to the floor.

Mikoto groaned as she stood up, approaching the limp half of the tentacle left on the deck. She skewered it like a kebab and tossed it over the side.

Sweat stuck to the back of her neck and her ribs ached. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly around her blade that they throbbed, they stung, they were numb. She huffed and puffed, but would not rest — she would fight until her last breath.

That was her duty as captain of the ship.

They did not need to win. They just needed to break free from the Kraken’s grasp and escape — surviving would be a victory of itself. The Tokiwadai was fast, and if they were lucky, the creature would not give chase. And so, Mikoto pushed on.

“Where’s the head?!” Mikoto shouted. It was a likely weak spot. She peered over the side of the ship but saw nothing below the water’s murky surface.

“This side!” Kuroko called behind her. “I’m trying to get a shot at it!” She stood on the quarterdeck of the ship and began reloading her pistol when a tentacle swiped towards her. At the last second, she slid out of the way, and the tentacle dented the planks where she once stood. She grimaced — too close for comfort.

“This isn’t working,” Kuroko said, glancing at Mikoto. “You need to step in _now.”_

Mikoto swallowed. She knew what Kuroko meant. The ship wouldn’t last forever, the pirates grew tired, but the Kraken showed no signs of slowing. The odds were stacked against them.

She hoped it wouldn’t have to come to _that_ , but they didn’t have a choice.

Mikoto nodded. “Alright. But it won’t last long.”

Mikoto approached the edge of the deck. She squinted her eyes and caught a shadow lurking beneath the water’s surface, behind the whipping tentacles. The head of the Kraken. She’d never encountered a Kraken before, but she’d recognise that bulbous shape anywhere. It would be difficult to lure out.

She pointed at the Kraken, as if pointing and laughing was enough to bring it to its knees. But when her lips started moving, there was barely any sound coming out. Mikoto muttered in an ancient language and her extended fingertip began to glow.

She drew shapes in the air, the outlines glowing before her. Circles, triangles and squares with intricate symbols scattered in between, a mess that only she could decipher. A tentacle raised above Mikoto, threatening to interrupt, but a gunshot from the side blasted it away.

The symbols pulsed with a bright light, signalling their completion. Mikoto closed her eyes. Her mind went completely still — the roaring waves, the scent of gunpowder, the salty sweat at the corners of her mouth, it was all consumed by darkness. She sucked in a deep breath.

And then, her eyes snapped open. She opened her palm and raised her arm above her head.

There was an unnatural ripple on the surface of the water, barely noticeable to the human eye. The ripples grew. And then suddenly a stream of water jetted upwards from underneath the Kraken’s head — a geyser that pushed it above the surface.

“Now!” Mikoto yelled.

Kuroko did not miss a beat.

There were two gunshots. The two black eyes of the Kraken burst into a bright blue as it let out a guttural howl. It was blinded and went into an immediate frenzy of panic — its tentacles released the ship and clawed at its face, trying to protect itself, but the damage had already been done.

Mikoto dropped her hand and the geyser disappeared, the sound of rushing water immediately cut short. And so, the Kraken came crashing back down into the ocean, sending a spray of water across the deck.

Mikoto ducked behind the mainmast for cover. Kuroko was not as quick to react, barely closing her eyes before she was soaked by the wave. Her hair and clothes stuck to her skin, becoming heavy and wet. She groaned.

The Kraken’s tentacles went limp and the creature began to sink. Its howls disappeared as it descended deeper and deeper below the surface, eventually lost to the darkness of the ocean.

The waves calmed. Things grew quiet again, and the danger had seemingly passed.

Kuroko, who was shaking off her drenched clothes, approached Mikoto. She smirked and clapped her on the back.

“Impressive as ever, Onee-sama.”

They had done it again. They scraped through by the skin of their teeth — the Kraken was no more, and with repairs soon underway, the Tokiwadai would sail on.

Mikoto smiled. She was reluctant to make use of her talents, but they sure were useful in a pinch.

Magic.

That was definitely magic, Misaki thought. She was watching from the safety of the crow’s nest, watching the captain’s every move. That woman was full of surprises. She risked her life to save Misaki’s, she made fighting a Kraken look effortless — fun, even. And now she had used magic.

Magic was an art. It couldn’t be mastered by just anyone — it took years of training and talent, reserved for nobility and scholars. Even Misaki could not cast a single spell. What she had just witnessed was near sacrilegious.

A pirate using magic.

Who _was_ this woman?

Whoever these people — these pirates were, they were suspicious. There were more than ordinary criminals, and despite her budding curiosities, Misaki wanted to keep her distance.

The crew emerged to deal with the messy aftermath, scrubbing the blood off the deck and replacing broken floorboards. As Misaki leaned over the edge, watching with narrowed eyes, Mikoto’s face suddenly appeared before her. Misaki yelped and fell onto her butt.

“Sorry,” Mikoto climbed into the crow’s nest and offered a hand. “Are you alright, miss?”

Misaki groaned, rubbing at her hips. She glanced up at the hand, paused, and then looked away. Now that she had a choice, she would not accept the help of a pirate, no matter how alluring Mikoto was.

With all the grace of a newborn lamb, Misaki stumbled onto her feet. “I-I’m fine,” she said, dusting herself off.

Mikoto looked the other up and down. She began to pat Misaki down, tapping her cheeks, shoulders, arms and legs.

“W-Wha, what are you doing—!?”

“No bruises, nothing broken?”

Misaki batted her hands away. “I said I’m fine!”

“Your dress is soaked,” Mikoto said.

No matter how much Misaki tried to hide it, Mikoto noticed her shaking figure and her tense jaw. Her dress was damp, sticking to her form — and with the chilly sea winds on her skin, she was covered in goosebumps.

Mikoto pulled her coat off and draped it around Misaki’s shoulders. She tried to step away.

“I don’t need your—“

“I insist.” Mikoto’s voice was unexpectedly sweet. Misaki came to a grinding halt, staring with wide, blinking eyes.

Now only wearing a thin shirt, Misaki got a better look at Mikoto’s slim, athletic form. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, revealing forearms covered in scratches. Her collarbone peaked out from underneath her shirt and overall, she was quite muscular. But as she extended a hand to Misaki, her fingers were slender and gentle, almost lady-like.

The last thing Misaki wanted to do was take that hand, but there was a whisper in her ear telling her to do it anyway — that reckless part of herself that got her in this situation in the first place. No matter how many times she shoved it down, it always came clawing back up to the surface.

She could not climb the ropes on her own. She could not deny the jacket’s warmth around her shoulders or the strange comfort that it brought. And yes, she had every reason to be hostile towards her captors, but she could not ignore Mikoto’s smile.

Misaki slipped her arms through the sleeves of the coat and took Mikoto’s hand. They descended together, one step at a time, and landed safely back onto the main deck.

Misaki breathed a sigh of relief. Her moment of freedom was fleeting however, as Mikoto did not let her go. Tightening her grip, she led Misaki down a wooden staircase, the blurry faces of other pirates passing them by.

They reached the back of the ship and arrived at a singular grand door. Mikoto pushed it open, revealing a large room beyond.

There was a double bed pushed against the wall, the covers messy and dragging onto the floor — but besides that, this was an office. There was a long desk in the centre, covered in a mess of parchment, ink, books and maps. The sloped back wall was covered in arched windows that overlooked the sea.

There were shelves, bookcases and drawers, and everything was decorated with an eclectic collection of valuables. Art, statues, jewellery; all shiny, expensive, and untouched. There was a hint of sophistication to be found in this madness — the display was impressive, and Misaki knew it couldn’t belong to anyone else.

“This must be your quarters,” Misaki said.

“Well, aren’t you observant.” Mikoto put a hand on her hip. “While the hold is flooded, I’ll keep watch on you here.”

Misaki had never seen anything like it. Compared to the rest of the ship which reeked of brine and gunpowder, this was a breath of fresh air. There was an ounce of decency to it. And there was this lingering scent, a perfume that was almost familiar hanging in the air. Misaki paused, taking in a deep breath.

Her eyebrows furrowed.

And then she was grabbed from behind, her arms twisted behind her back. Her breath caught in her throat and she squirmed, trying to break free.

“H-Hey, unhand me!”

Mikoto paid no mind to her protests. She reached for the coil of rope at her belt and began threading it around Misaki’s wrists. “I can’t have you touching my stuff while I’m gone.”

The words did little to calm Misaki, who kept thrashing and struggling. Mikoto’s hold on her was tight — not tight enough to hurt, but enough to cause panic. She gritted her teeth and tried to pull free, but to no avail.

Mikoto sighed. She didn’t want to use force, but she couldn’t tie a knot like this. She put a hand on Misaki’s back and slammed her onto the desk. Bottles of ink clattered as her face met the hard wood.

“It won’t be for long,” Mikoto said. “Now hold still.”

Misaki groaned. At this point, there was no use fighting. Persisting would only exhaust her. Eventually, she gave in and went limp, letting Mikoto tie her up. She doubted Mikoto would hurt her, and besides, she didn’t mind being handled roughly for a change.

Misaki paused.

Bent over the desk like this, getting tied up by Mikoto standing right behind her… Misaki shivered, feeling a kick of heat between her legs. She couldn’t believe she had the audacity to feel _excited_ — Mikoto was a pirate for god’s sake, and she batted the thoughts away as quickly as they came.

Sadly, her rosy cheeks were not as quick to fade. Mikoto’s fingers moved quickly, having tied these knots a million times, and as she stepped away from Misaki the blush remained on her face.

“There,” Mikoto dusted off her hands. “Sit tight, I’m just going to help with repairs.”

Misaki gathered her pride and stood upright, but she could not meet Mikoto’s gaze. She nodded, letting Mikoto walk towards the door. She reached out for the handle, and as she swung it open…

“Shokuhou Misaki,” she blurted out.

Mikoto stopped. “Huh?”

“My name.” Misaki’s eyes slowly trailed up to meet Mikoto’s. When she smiled at her, Misaki’s heart twisted.

“Misaka Mikoto,” she said. “Let’s have a pleasant journey together, Shokuhou Misaki.”

And she closed the door behind her.

There was a twitching frown on Misaki’s face — she would not, absolutely could not let herself smile.

Misaka Mikoto. She repeated it to herself, burning that name into her memory.

Misaka Mikoto.

She was a pirate. She was under no obligation to show Misaki any kindness. She did not need to respect her title or abide by society’s rules. She could play as dirty as she liked, and yet, she chose to play fair. To speak with manners instead of rudeness. To treat Misaki like one of her own, not like a possession.

She was a pirate, she didn’t have to be kind — but she chose to be anyway.

She was nobler than any noble Misaki had ever met.

Misaki couldn’t stop thinking about her — she was no longer just a pirate, no, she was different.

She was Misaka Mikoto.


	2. This is Limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, this was an unexpectedly long, difficult chapter, but here it is... Please enjoy more MikoMisa and let me know your thoughts!
> 
> As always, you can find me on my Twitter @/level5less!

**Chapter 2: This is Limbo**

There was a knock at the door.

Misaki groaned. The grating sound called upon her, but it was incredibly tempting to just ignore it, roll over, and fall back asleep. Exhaustion throbbed in her aching muscles and it was a struggle to even keep her eyes open.

If someone was knocking, though, it was for a reason. At such an early hour, it was presumably breakfast.

Misaki knew the routine by now. She’d lost count of the number of days exactly, but she’d been at sea for at least a couple weeks. Thinking about home depressed her — but she’d gotten over the initial despair that plagued her, and found ways to cope with her new lifestyle.

For a start, the hold wasn’t empty anymore. After persistent complaining, Misaki convinced the pirates to lend her some blankets, pillows, and decorations. It had a semblance of an identity now, and in a way, it was Misaki’s room. While it paled in comparison to her bedroom at home, it was an upgrade from sleeping on the floor of the captain’s quarters those first few nights.

The pirates took turns being on “prisoner duty,” which meant bringing meals, doing check-ins, and keeping watch of Misaki. Reluctantly, she’d met a handful of the other crew members this way, though none were as interesting as Misaka Mikoto.

Uiharu Kazari and Saten Ruiko often appeared together despite being opposites — they levelled each other out, and to Misaki, were much more tolerable together than separate. Kazari was the ship’s navigator, a timid girl who decorated herself in flowers and carried an earthy scent. Ruiko was a high-spirited girl in charge of repairs. Her voice was easily identifiable as it could be heard from across the ship.

Shirai Kuroko was the worst of all. It was like she had a personal vendetta against Misaki despite them being strangers — from day one, she gave her the cold shoulder and the slyest of glares, and Misaki didn’t appreciate the attitude. So, she went out of her way to be a troublemaker for her, spilling meals here and there, toying with her. What kind of woman wore her hair in pigtails, anyway?

As satisfying as it was to watch Kuroko’s poker face crack, dealing with her was rather exhausting. Misaki’s stomach twisted — oh, she hoped Kuroko wasn’t on the other side of the door.

There was another knock, and then a voice. “Hey, you awake?”

Misaki knew that voice well.

Under the rush of excitement that followed, she couldn’t sit still. Throwing off the covers, Misaki stumbled to her feet and dashed for the door.

It was Misaka Mikoto, her hair swept and messy as always and her eyes a little dull from sleep, but oh, how Misaki’s chest tightened at the sight. After an inconspicuous scan up and down of Mikoto’s body, Misaki raised an eyebrow. She was holding a bowl in her hands, and upon closer inspection…

Misaki sighed. A bowl of soup and some likely stale bread.

“Surely, _you_ eat finer meals than this,” she said. Stepping closer, Misaki glided her finger down Mikoto’s chest, a playful smirk resting on her face. “Can’t you sneak me some real food, _captain?”_

Her body tensed at the touch, and with a sharp smack, Mikoto batted her hand away. To further distance herself from Misaki, she folded her arms in front of her chest. She cocked an eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I’ve been such a good girl~”

“Funny, Kuroko would say otherwise.”

“Who cares about her?” Misaki waved a hand. “You’re fond of me, right? That’s why you’re so nice all the time.”

“Don’t make me tie you up again,” she spat.

Misaki winked. “Careful, I might like that.”

“W-Wha…”

Mikoto’s train of thought was cut short then and there; in fact, the train had been completely disassembled. She blushed a deep red, and Misaki couldn’t help but giggle at the pathetic sight. Flirtation was a powerful tool that disarmed Mikoto every single time.

Misaki put a hand to her mouth. “Tough on the outside, but you’re actually a big softie, aren’t you, Misaka-san?”

“You’re such a—!“ There was a spark of anger in Mikoto’s chest but she managed to hit the brakes before it caught fire. She sucked in a deep breath, sighed, and shook her head in defeat. “Look, fine. I’ll bring you something later, but right now I have to get ready to anchor the ship.”

“So soon?” Misaki tilted her head.

“I didn’t tell you?” Mikoto was genuinely taken aback, but Misaki’s perplexed expression was all the confirmation she needed. How such an important thing slipped her mind, she didn’t know, but she wouldn’t keep Misaki in the dark any longer. “Yeah, we’ll be arriving at our destination today. In fact, any moment now.”

* * *

For the first time in weeks, the boat came to a standstill. Only in the sound’s absence did Misaki realise how comforting the waves were, providing a constant blanket of white noise. It was so eerily quiet she could now hear the boat creaking as it bobbed up and down.

There was a thundering of footsteps and commands shouted from above, and Misaki knew it was time. They were arriving. Caving in to her curiosities, she threw open the door and climbed to the main deck.

Misaki was no ordinary prisoner, that much was obvious from the get-go. Her room was rarely locked, and as long as someone accompanied her, she was free to roam around the ship. Thus, she was no stranger to the heat of the midday sun or the sea-skimmed winds that embraced her as she emerged.

She leaned over the boat’s edge while the crew scrambled around her, tying ropes and throwing things overboard. She didn’t understand any of it. Her eyes were focused on the horizon and the foreign sight of land.

They had arrived on the shores of a jungle-filled island. To the centre were a mass of rising, emerald trees and thick bushes, vines and vibrant colours as far as the eye could see. Along the edges of the island stretched a town — a town of short wooden buildings with pointed rooftops that resembled ship hulls. There were cobbled walkways, streets, and an open bazaar in the distance, with ragged individuals walking in all directions.

Mikoto was also standing on the deck, and in the midst of giving her crew orders, her eyes stopped on Misaki — she stood out, a pillar of stillness amongst a sea of movement. She was leaning awfully far over the railing of the ship. Raising an eyebrow, Mikoto strolled up beside her. “What are you doing?”

Misaki brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Might I remind you, I grew up in the kingdom’s capital. I’ve never seen a _jungle_ before.”

“Oh, so you’re admiring the view,” Mikoto said. “I thought you were gonna jump overboard.”

“What? No, that would be suicide.”

“You can’t swim.”

Misaki blinked. “H-Huh?”

“Because you can’t swim, right?”

“W-Whether I can or cannot swim is irrelevant!” Misaki’s cheeks were puffy as she stamped her foot on the ground. “At this height, the fall alone would kill you! You’d hit the surface of the water like concrete and splat like a—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Mikoto waved a hand. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m talking!”

“Hurry up, unless you wanna be left behind.”

The boat was anchored and secured, and one by one, the pirates were unloading. Mikoto’s boots clanked against the plank between the ship and the dock, and Misaki reluctantly scampering after her.

At the edge of the dock, Mikoto waited with a hand out. “Careful, it’s unstable,” she said.

Misaki glanced at the outstretched hand and upturned her nose. “I don’t need your help.”

Mikoto’s eye twitched — luckily, she bit her tongue before any snarky remarks came out, and instead, she folded her arms. If Misaki didn’t want her help, then she couldn’t complain if it turned out she needed it. So she happily sat and watched.

Once the words came out, Misaki immediately regretted it. She glanced at the plank, almost as thin as she was, and the crashing waves underneath. There was nothing to hold onto, she was on her own here. One wrong step, one strong wind and it would all be over. And to make matters worse, Mikoto was _right there._

Misaki swallowed. She lifted a foot, hovering it above the plank. She gently put it down. _Phew,_ one down. Her legs were trembling and she felt faint, but she had to push onwards. She repeated the process, carefully, one by one inching towards the dock — land was so, so close. Just a little more and she would be off this boat for good, just a little more…

As she took her next step, her foot caught on her heel, and Misaki tumbled forward. Her stomach lurched and she cried out, her arms flailing as if there was anything to grab onto, anything that could save her.

Mikoto stepped forward and she fell, safely, into her arms.

Misaki shut her eyes. When she didn’t feel the hard surface of the ground smacking her in the face or the coldness of waves, she paused, peering them open. Her legs found solid ground and she felt a twitch — Mikoto’s arms wrapped around her.

“What did I say?”

That familiar voice was all too close. As soon as Misaki realised her face was buried in Mikoto’s chest, she took a breath so sharp it stung in her throat. “Don’t touch me,” she spat, shoving Mikoto with all the strength she could muster.

Mikoto stumbled back. “What, no thank you?“ But she received no reply, as Misaki had already stormed off. Mikoto furrowed her eyebrows. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away from you.”

Whatever wild rush of emotion Misaki just experienced, she wanted to be as far away from it as possible.

As the docks disappeared behind her, the buildings around her grew more imposing. The foreign town towered over her, and as soon as Misaki’s frustrations wore off, her heels dragged. She could make a break for it, could ditch the pirates once and for all, but her fear of the unknown kept her still.

She didn’t know where she was. If anything, she’d be better off…

“Better to stay with us than get lost, don’t you think?” Speak of the devil. Mikoto strolled up beside her, making Misaki jump out of her skin. She glared at the other woman — oh, how she wanted to wipe that smug smirk off Mikoto’s pretty little face.

Misaki’s silence was all-telling, so Mikoto continued. “Let’s get you some new clothes. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb dressed like that.”

As Mikoto turned to lead Misaki further into town, there was a pitter-patter of desperate footsteps behind her. She whipped around to see Kuroko, Kazari, and Ruiko, all wearing similar, wary expressions.

“Onee-sama—“ Kuroko stopped when Mikoto put up a hand.

“Go on ahead,” Mikoto said. “We’re going into town to fetch some things.”

Kuroko glanced between Mikoto and Misaki, eyeing them closely but saying nothing. She gave a firm nod and the crewmates peeled off, walking in the opposite direction. Once they were a good distance away, surely out of earshot from Mikoto and Misaki, Kuroko glanced over her shoulder.

Mikoto always had an abnormally large smile on her face when she talked with Misaki…

Ruiko threw her hands behind her head. ”Talk about an unconventional bond,” she said. “Those two get along well, huh?”

“Almost too well…” Kuroko narrowed her eyes.

“Shirai-san," Kazari was usually the first to notice when Kuroko’s mood turned pensive. “Something bothering you?”

Kuroko hummed, putting a hand to her chin. “Onee-sama treats her like one of us, do you not find that worrisome?”

Ruiko shrugged. “She’s only staying until we get paid.”

“That’s my point,” Kuroko said. “If this goes any further…”

“You think she won’t want to give her up?” Kazari asked.

“I don’t know.” Kuroko sighed. “I trust Onee-sama, but I know how soft-hearted she can be.”

There was an evident pause as they all pondered the thought. Surely, Mikoto wouldn’t be so foolish, but Kuroko knew her best. And if she was having doubts…

Ruiko shrugged. “I’m sure our captain knows exactly what she’s doing.”

* * *

A shopping trip, huh? It was an oddly mundane thing to be doing, but it helped Misaki regain a shard of her old lifestyle. It was refreshing, if anything, to be off that boat and back on land.

Mikoto made for some interesting company. They bickered as expected, but Mikoto was strangely serious about finding Misaki something to wear, something comfortable and inconspicuous. It was difficult for them to come to a compromise with such contrasting styles — Misaki leaned towards maturity while Mikoto had a soft spot for cute things — but, eventually, they settled.

“How’s this?”

“A surprisingly good suggestion, Misaka-san. It’ll do.”

Once they had compiled a new set of outfits for Misaki, and their adventure came to a close. Mikoto explained they were to return to the pirates’ hideout — a home of sorts — and began to traverse the open streets. All the walking was hurting Misaki’s legs, and she made sure Mikoto heard all about it.

Taking as many back alleyways and shortcuts as possible, they eventually reached a lone residence squatting behind a rusting fence. It would’ve looked imposing if it stood proudly, but instead, its colours were tarnished, the yard littered with weeds, and window frames set askew. It was a mockery of a mansion, and Misaki couldn’t hide her crinkled brow as they drew closer.

Mikoto’s announcement confirmed they had, indeed, arrived at their destination. “This is it. Welcome home, I guess.”

Kuroko was there to greet them as they stepped inside. Mikoto threw off her coat and then, from top to bottom, showed Misaki around.

As it turned out, Misaki’s image of a pirate’s hideout was completely false. Bedrooms, offices, lounges and dining tables — everything was quite ordinary, if only in questionable condition. The smell of tobacco clung to the furniture despite Mikoto’s adamance that the place was routinely cleaned, but besides that, it was an ordinary home.

Perhaps Misaki could get used to this after all.

Mikoto gestured as they circled back to the foyer. “You’re free to go anywhere anytime, as long as you stay inside. And _please_ don’t go into the basement, okay? No one’s allowed down there alone.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s where the treasure vault is.” Mikoto spoke rather frankly about something that was supposed to be a secret.

Misaki raised an eyebrow. “Saying that makes me more curious, you know.”

“If I catch you in there, I will cut off your hands.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you will — say, Misaka-san?” Misaki waved a hand. “How long have you been a pirate?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you seem to put more heart into helping people than you do threatening them. That’s all.” Misaki winked, and the cocky satisfaction in her tone struck a nerve with Mikoto. She clenched her teeth.

There was a blur of motion before Misaki was shoved into the wall, the air knocked from her lungs and a pathetic yelp escaping her. The cold, sharpened blade of a dagger pressed against her neck as Mikoto stared her down with fiery eyes. Their faces inches away, her breath hissed against Misaki’s skin as she spoke in an equally darkened voice. “Is this what you want? To be treated like a prisoner?”

Any normal person would be panicking, terrified that their life could be upended with a single swipe — but Misaki, no, she wouldn’t fall for Mikoto’s tough facade. She stared death in the face, she matched Mikoto’s fiery gaze with a crook in her eyebrow and a confident smile. “You wouldn’t hurt me.” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have it in you.”

As always, Misaki’s words hit their mark, especially since there was a semblance of truth in them — no matter how frustrating she was, Mikoto wouldn’t harm Misaki, wouldn’t even consider ending her life though it would only take a slice. Mikoto’s stomach began to swirl, and in a desperate attempt to hide her weakness, she pushed the blade harder into Misaki’s neck.

The dagger sliced into her skin with a sting. Misaki winced, feeling blood gently trickling down her chest. It wasn’t a lethal cut, not by a long shot, but it was enough to prove her point. Misaki instinctively tensed — if Mikoto pressed any harder, she would be done for.

“Don’t test me,” Mikoto spat. When Misaki said nothing, she retracted her blade and nodded towards the hallway. “Get out of my sight and clean up.”

Each breath Misaki took was strenuous; her chest had seized up, tightly coiling in on itself though it didn’t show on her face. She stood tall but her knees shook — she wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or excitement or what, but there was a genuine smirk on her face. Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she turned down the hallway and vanished from sight, somehow satisfied after their bitter exchange.

As soon as Mikoto was alone she deflated like a balloon. A sigh escaped her, and with defeated eyes, she gazed at the droplets of crimson on the tip of her dagger.

Somehow, Misaki had learnt exactly where to tread to step on every one of Mikoto’s nerves. Misaki knew her well, had her wrapped around her finger and it was frustrating how easily Mikoto came undone.

Though Misaki’s insightfulness could be used in better ways than to annoy Mikoto, it was an impressive skill nonetheless. Being able to identify people’s strengths and weaknesses was… quite the talent. She’d never seen anything like it.

Mikoto huffed. “She’s such a headache.”

* * *

“Haah…”

As she lowered herself into the steaming, hot water of the bathtub, Misaki couldn’t help but moan. Her skin perked with goosebumps as a wave of relief washed over her — unfortunately, ephemeral as it was followed by pricks of pain. Scratches and cuts across her body that went unnoticed started stinging beneath the water’s surface. The fresh cut on her neck was particularly uncomfortable, though she was well aware of that one.

The pain vanished almost as quickly as it came. Misaki leaned her head back, dust washing from her hair and clouding the water with grey specks. The dirt underneath her fingernails washed away, and for the first time in weeks, Misaki felt renewed, like her heart itself had been brushed clean.

As she lifted her fingertips and lightly splashed the surface of the water, Misaki grinned, feeling a tinge of joy. One of the downsides to being a noble of the capital city was that you rarely travelled. Misaki had never been away from home, and it was exciting knowing she could survive elsewhere. As terrifying as the unknown was, it hadn’t treated her so badly thus far.

It had brought her to Misaka Mikoto, after all.

The bathroom door swung open and Misaki’s head snapped towards the sound. If Mikoto was here to demand a second round of their argument, she could at least have the tact to wait until Misaki was fully dressed.

Misaki opened her mouth though no words came out, and she stared at the pair of eyes that met her. They weren’t brown and blazing, no, those pink eyes belonged to…

Shirai Kuroko.

Kuroko’s eyes flickered to Misaki’s naked body just for a moment, and the instant regret showed all over her face. She turned red from head to toe and a ghoulish scream escaped her.

“P-Pardon me!” she screeched, scrambling to shut the door.

Even all the world’s oceans could not cleanse her eyes from what she had seen. Shame, embarrassment, frustration, Kuroko was incredibly overwhelmed no matter the emotion and thundered away from the bathroom.

Her teeth were chattering. She would never run indoors, but she definitely pushed the limits so she could reach her next destination as fast as possible.

Mikoto’s office.

“What is the meaning of this!?” The door slammed open and Kuroko stepped through with a huff — but Mikoto was rather undisturbed. Her eyes remained at her desk and she continued scribbling into her journal.

“Of what?” Mikoto asked.

“She’s using the washroom.”

“I told her to.”

“You _what?_ Onee-sama…” Kuroko’s shoulders slumped as a disappointed sigh fell from her lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually grown attached to that crone.”

“Don’t call her that.” Mikoto shot her a glare. “She’s troublesome, but she doesn’t deserve to suffer any more than she has to.”

“By showing her mercy, you’re building a bond of trust between you,” Kuroko said. “If this continues, you will hesitate to part ways when the time comes."

There she was again, putting on her lecturing voice. There was no other sound that could dampen Mikoto’s spirits so quickly. Reluctantly dropping her quill and shutting her journal, she spun around in her chair to face Kuroko, resting an arm on the backrest. “Kuroko, relax — it might be months before the kingdom replies, and when they do, I _will_ send her off and we _will_ get paid, okay?”

It was hard to argue with Mikoto when she spoke in such a frank manner. As Kuroko gave a polite nod of her head, Mikoto continued. “In the meantime, perhaps a noble like her could use a taste of freedom.”

Only Kuroko’s finely tuned senses could pick up the hint of sentimentality to Mikoto’s words — Kuroko did a double-take, eyeing Mikoto carefully, and surely enough, her expression had darkened somewhat. She was gazing across the room but Kuroko could tell she was looking much further than that.

“I see,” Kuroko said. “So that’s what this is about.”

When Mikoto had such a bittersweet expression on her face, she couldn’t just stand around. Crossing the room, Kuroko approached Mikoto from behind and wrapped her arms around her neck. “Then I shall extend a hand to her as well.”

Kuroko’s voice was warm like a blanket draped over her, and in her embrace, Mikoto felt at ease. “Thanks, Kuroko,” she said.

Kuroko smiled, planted a kiss on Mikoto’s cheek, and then left.

* * *

The pirates, as much as they hated following rules, had one surprisingly sentimental tradition — when they safely returned home from a voyage, they celebrated by throwing a feast. It was an event looked forward to by all; even Mikoto had a giddiness about her as evening came, and she made sure to drag Misaki along. There was no way she was missing out on such a thing.

The town was different at night. It was like the people shielded themselves from sunlight, and only under the blanket of the night sky could they shed their skin. There were crowds, performers, markets, and stalls, carrying through an air of liveliness. Every street lamp, every building was lit up. Despite the hour growing late, the town was just beginning to wake.

The pirates visited a building with a crooked roof — the local tavern. Misaki eyed it suspiciously as she stepped into the warm interior, and was immediately hit with a cacophony of noise. Laughter, clinking glasses, tables slamming, it was a chaos unlike any other. No one batted an eye as they entered except for the barmaid who had them seated and served within minutes.

Mikoto slid tankards of ale towards everyone, and when her eyes fell on Misaki, she paused. “Do you drink?” she asked.

“Nothing as unrefined as ale,” Misaki said.

Mikoto shrugged and shoved it towards her anyway. She raised her glass and everyone followed suit; Misaki reluctantly joined as well, and with a boisterous cheer, their drinks clinked together.

The feast was underway.

Misaki was quick to learn that the only thing more obnoxious than pirates were drunk pirates. They howled with laughter, spilt their drinks, punched each other lovingly — and sure, there was a freedom to be found in forsaking graces, but it was a bit much. As much as Misaki disliked ale, it was hard to turn down the insistent pirates, and admittedly, it helped her deal with the chaos. It relaxed her.

As the evening went on, Misaki became more carefree, more chatty. The questions that she’d kept to herself this entire journey easily came spilling out.

“Misaka-san, tell me about yourself.” Misaki swirled her drink in one hand. “I’ve spent much time with you, yet you’re still quite the enigma.”

“Good. I hear being mysterious is attractive these days.” Mikoto grinned. She was kidding around, of course, though Misaki wholeheartedly agreed.

While she was easily swayed by the charm of Mikoto’s smile, Misaki had too much pride to show it. And so, she rolled her eyes and pretended Mikoto hadn’t said anything at all. “Where do you come from?”

There was a pause as Mikoto cast her gaze across the room, pondering what to say, or whether to say anything at all. Ultimately, she found herself saying more than she would’ve liked, as she often did around Misaki. “My hometown’s just south of the capital,” she said. “You know, I used to be a noble.”

The image of Mikoto wearing dresses and attending balls seemed rather unfitting, considering she was currently sitting with her legs spread out and her clothes caked in dirt. It explained a lot though, and truly, Misaki shouldn’t have been surprised — Mikoto’s refined manners, her gentlemanly habits — of course, she used to be a noble.

“So that’s how you know magic,” Misaki said.

Mikoto nodded. “That was the only upside — I hated everything else. Being told how to act, being handed everything on a silver platter… just hated it. I wanted to find treasure with my own hands. To earn my success, not inherit it.”

And so, Mikoto recounted how she became a pirate, full of embellishments and dramatisations that kept Misaki hanging onto her every word.

Through her nightly escapades, Mikoto met Ruiko and Kazari, low-life criminals living on the streets. They were genuine souls that only had each other; they did what they needed to survive, made judgments at their discretion, escaping the restraints of law. There was something deeply admirable about them, a boldness that Mikoto had never seen before.

Mikoto proposed this — Ruiko and Kazari could have all the treasure and wealth imaginable if they joined her and became pirates.

 _Pirates._ Sailing the seas would get Mikoto far away from home while ensuring a life full of twists, turns, and adventure.

Ruiko and Kazari didn’t have much to lose. They had never been looked in the eye by a noble before, let alone treated with such kindness. It didn’t take them much persuading to bring them onboard.

The final part of Mikoto’s plan of escape was the hardest: sneaking out of her estate. As expected, her activities were heavily monitored at all times. She was lucky to have a retainer that she bonded with on a personal level, and it helped remove the suffocation most days.

Her retainer was Shirai Kuroko, of course. It was a big risk to reveal her plans to Kuroko, but Mikoto trusted her — and it was a decision that eventually paid off. They formed an escape plan, ran away together, and never turned back.

“I was truly _mortified,”_ Kuroko said, leaning over at the mention of her name, “when you told me you wanted to run away. But I swore myself to you, Onee-sama, and even now, I will follow wherever you go.”

“Honestly, what would I do without you?” Mikoto said.

Like an older brother to a younger, Mikoto put Kuroko in a headlock and ruffled her hair. Rough as it was, Kuroko’s laughter suggested it was an affectionate gesture and one that was warmly welcomed.

Though Misaki smiled at the warm scene before her, there was something stuck in her throat, a lump she couldn’t quite swallow down. She hated thinking about home for it only made her heart ache, but in that instance, she couldn’t fight it.

_Retainer, huh?_

Misaki missed her retainer, Hokaze Junko, very much. She wondered what she could be doing at home — fretting over Misaki’s disappearance, probably — and how she was coping. Junko was the type to take responsibility for things outside her control, to be needlessly hard on herself no matter how many times Misaki told her off for it. Junko never wanted to disappoint, though she rarely did.

Junko’s unshakable loyalty was perhaps her strongest asset as a retainer — whatever Misaki wanted, it would be so. She was the closest Misaki had to a friend, and the more she thought about her, the emptier she felt.

If Junko were here, what would she say? If she was to tell Misaki not to be careless, not to trust pirates, well — it was too late.

“So, Shokuhou,” Kuroko’s lazy voice shattered her daydream, anchoring Misaki back to the present. “You’ve got what, a husband, kids at home?”

Misaki’s expression soured. “Just how old do you think I am? I’ll have you know, I’m yet to find a partner.”

“Oh?” Kuroko raised an eyebrow. “I imagined suitors would be lining up outside your estate for a chance to wed you.”

“Plenty have come my way, it’s true, but I refuse to wed a man whose only after my dowry.” A dreamy sigh escaped Misaki’s lips. “A marriage of love is so much more thrilling, don’t you think?”

Mikoto’s gaze lingered on Misaki’s swooning expression. So she had a romantic side to her, huh? It was surprising to see someone so regal fawning over an idea as innocent as love. Mikoto hummed. “Sure, but true love’s a myth these days. No offence, Saten-san.”

There was a sad sigh across the table, and Ruiko deflated entirely. “It’s fine, I’m starting to think so too… I love Frenda, but it’s hard when we barely see each other.”

“At least you’ll see her when we pay off our debt,” Mikoto said. It was Frenda’s crew they allied with and accidentally attacked, after all. While Mikoto wasn’t looking forward to seeing their faces after leaving on such a sour note, Ruiko could barely wait any longer.

“How long will that take?” Ruiko asked.

Mikoto glanced at Misaki. “Depends.”

When Misaki realised what they were talking about, it was like stepping barefoot into broken glass. It was fun to play games every now and then, but in the end, Misaki was nothing more than a possession to be bought and sold. Yes, that was the reality of the situation — no amount of bickering, flirting, or otherwise would change that.

Misaki had known from the start, and yet, remembering it broke her heart. What did she expect, after all? Did she think things would change because she was getting along with everyone? With Mikoto? Did she think that was enough to earn mercy? She suddenly felt incredibly foolish, and the disappointment on her face was no longer just pretend.

“Oh, so I’m your convenient solution?” Misaki rolled her eyes. “You’re not pawning me off tomorrow, are you?”

Mikoto was genuinely taken aback by the spite in her tone. “I thought you wanted to go home.”

“Eventually, but I want to spend more time with you, fellow noble-san.”

“Ex-noble.”

“Don’t you want to spend time with me, too?” She went full-throttle in her attempt to piss off Mikoto. Shuffling way too close, Misaki hooked her arm with Mikoto’s and pressed her chest as firmly as she could against her. She squeezed tightly, topping off the act with an innocent pout.

No matter how hard she tried, Mikoto couldn’t ignore it, and her body stiffened like a rod. Misaki continued. “Then again, you _did_ give me a nasty cut earlier, maybe you’re done playing nice after all… Too bad I also like it when you’re rough~”

If not for the alcohol to temper her, Mikoto would’ve exploded. Instead, she was strangely composed, narrowing her eyes as she said, “Shut up.”

Misaki’s lips curled into a smile. “Make me.”

Like a ricocheting bullet, those simple yet infuriating words pierced Mikoto right in the chest. What was Misaki thinking, uttering such a thing? And in front of a crowd like this? That riled her up, it really did.

Misaki’s pretty little face, her stupid smirk — Mikoto decided she would not be bested by such things. An idea came to her, something that would let off some steam and hopefully shut Misaki up once and for all.

Mikoto’s heart was pounding and her face incredibly hot, but for once, she had the strength to not give a damn. Instead of leaning away like Misaki expected, Mikoto leaned closer, and their lips pressed together. Misaki was so shocked she could only stop and stare.

Mikoto tore away just as quickly and pried her arm free. “Shut up, or I’ll do it again,” she said, lifting her drink to her lips.

Many eyes stared at them, equally as perplexed and red-faced as Misaki was.

She was oddly quiet after that.

* * *

It must’ve been way past midnight by the time the pirate’s seemingly boundless energy reached their bounds. Crew members left one by one to go their separate ways while Mikoto, who paid for their meals, was among the last to leave.

There was a sea of empty tankards left on the table. Misaki had long lost count of how many were hers. As she slid out from under the table, the world around her spun and she stumbled, barely catching herself just in time. She wasn’t used to pushing her limits like this; there was an ever-present fog cloud in her mind that she couldn’t shake.

Mikoto watched with a frown. “Careful,” she said. “Let’s go before you hurt yourself.”

The two walked back to the house in silence. Ever since Mikoto had the gall to kiss her — she could barely believe it happened — she couldn’t quite look her in the eyes. It wasn’t Misaki’s first kiss yet she was particularly riddled with nerves as if it was. As they ascended the staircase to the top floor, Mikoto put a hand on Misaki’s back, and even that made her squirm.

When they reached Misaki’s bedroom, she felt she would burst. Mikoto guided her to the bedside where she plopped down with a heavy sigh. As Misaki slid off her heels, Mikoto shut the door, and silence fell upon them.

For the first time that night, they were alone.

Mikoto lit a lantern on the bedside table, blanketing the room in an orange light; and how brilliantly Mikoto glowed in it. With a hand on her hip like that and her brown eyes lit like beacons, Misaki couldn’t look anywhere else. She was so dazzling.

Mikoto tugged at her collar, feeling the tension between them. “Come on, don’t just stare at me,” she said. “Go to sleep.”

Misaki was barely listening. She was still thinking about that kiss, that brief instant of electricity shooting through her body. Perhaps it wasn’t the kiss that bothered her, but the way her heart hadn’t stopped pounding ever since. That incessant pounding — it was easy to ignore before, but now, every beat was so loud it was almost sickening. Now, it was impossible to ignore.

Whenever she looked at Mikoto, her entire body erupted into flame, and she had never felt such a strong desire to burn.

Misaki didn’t even attempt to come up with some kind of witty response. How much longer could she hide what she truly felt?

“I don’t want to. Besides,” Misaki said, “You told me to shut up earlier. And here I am, still flapping my lips. Aren’t you going to do something about that?"

“It’s not punishment if you’re asking for it.”

Misaki took a deep breath. Those flames licked at her insides, making her shiver — she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She reached for Mikoto’s collar and yanked her close, their eyes locked onto one another. “But I’m sick of pretending, Misaka-san,” she said. “I _want_ you to kiss me. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.”

Mikoto didn’t expect her to be so forward, and with her head already swimming with exhaustion, she was speechless. Mikoto swallowed, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Is that you or the alcohol talking?"

“Who cares?” Misaki huffed. “Haven’t we played these games long enough?” And as the words trailed out of her mouth, she tugged harder, pressing a hot, desperate kiss against Mikoto’s lips.

Mikoto moaned, struggling to find her footing and catch her breath, for it happened so fast. Her mind was more than a little hazy — she knew if they continued, neither would remember in the morning, and that thought drove her to hit the brakes. Misaki showed no signs of slowing so Mikoto pushed her away, wiping at her lips.

Hiding her sheepish grin, Mikoto stammered over her words before finally saying, “I-I don’t think we should… right now,” she said. “If you still want me then… I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise.”

Reluctantly, Misaki withdrew, letting go of Mikoto’s collar. She already felt herself growing cold in the space between them, yearning for that heat more than anything. If it weren’t for the twisted expression on Mikoto’s face, that strange seriousness, she would’ve continued.

“You’d better,” she said. And before either could go back on their word, Mikoto darted off into the night.

* * *

The next morning, Misaki woke up groggy and exhausted. She slept in until midday — when she realised the time, she panicked and sat right up, only for her head to spin. It was a sin to sleep in that late at home but, as she looked around, she was reminded once more that this _wasn’t_ home. And she sighed.

The memories of the previous night were distant, like a fading cloud, not entirely gone. She remembered snippets, like that fiery sensation that enveloped her body when she and Mikoto were alone. And how they had kissed last night; once at the feast, and again afterwards.

The tension between them had boiled over, the ice finally broken, and while they didn’t get far, Mikoto promised to make it up to her. That filled Misaki with such excitement, such a burning desire that it gave her butterflies. She could barely sit still, washing up and dashing downstairs as soon as she could.

The house was eerily quiet, and as she stepped into the kitchen, one figure stood there. As luck would have it, it was Mikoto, leaning against the counter and smoking a cigarette.

“Sleeping Beauty, finally,” Mikoto said. “I was wondering when you’d get up.”

Misaki’s nose crinkled at the putrid scent. “Must you do that inside?”

“You gonna stop me?”

Misaki didn’t bother replying, shaking her head as she watched the other woman take another puff. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Sent them on some errands. Shouldn’t be back ’til evening,” Mikoto said. “In the meantime, you want something to eat?”

Misaki perked up — finally, an opportunity to take control. Time to push Mikoto’s buttons, as she often enjoyed doing. “I do, actually,” Misaki purred, strolling up to Mikoto and placing a hand on her chest.

Mikoto’s confidence was stripped from her at an embarrassing speed. It was like she was another person entirely, her flimsy frown and red cheeks unfitting for the pirate that once stood tall. “Y-You… weren’t kidding last night?”

“We all need a bit of liquid courage from time to time,” Misaki said. “Besides, you promised to make it up to me.”

“I did.” Mikoto’s eyes fell to the ground. Misaki couldn’t have that, no — she wanted to relish in that flustered expression, for she had earnt it. Misaki trailed a finger up Mikoto’s neck, under her chin, and they locked eyes once more.

Mikoto was quaking at the slightest touch — how adorable. Misaki would’ve pounced on her then and there if there wasn’t something she needed to address first. With incredible self-discipline and a need to tease, she pulled her hand away. “Misaka-san, before we get to anything… mind showing me the treasure vault?”

Mikoto blinked, like a bucket of ice had been tipped on her head. “What?”

“Pretty please?” Misaki batted her eyelashes.

Mikoto felt a twang of frustration, and clung to it like a lifeline — she knew how to deal with anger much better than nerves. She puffed out her chest, standing a little taller. “I’m not gonna let you _steal_ from us.”

“Treasure’s your pride and joy, right? It’s what makes you a real pirate,” Misaki said. “So let me see.”

Mikoto narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t read what Misaki’s intentions were, they were always hidden behind that immovable smile of hers. She knew better than to argue with her and waste time, and so Mikoto shook her head in defeat.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.”

Without sparing even a glance over her shoulder, Mikoto stormed off, discarding her cigarette as Misaki followed with an extra spring in her step. She led her through a door, down a set of stairs that descended into the darkness of the basement. There was a short hallway before a towering safe stood before them — the treasure vault.

The circular door was beamed shut with metal bars, and immediately, Mikoto began to undo them. Shoving some aside, lifting others, twisting, it was an intricate and confusing process that quickly lost Misaki. She tapped her foot as she waited for the clinking to finally cease.

There was a final click, Mikoto huffed, and then with the full force of her body, she pushed against the door. The hinges screeched as the vault door swung open, and Misaki’s attention snapped back in place.

The treasure vault…

As the two stepped inside, their shoes clinked and crunched. The floor was littered with gold coins — in fact, there were gold coins _everywhere,_ stacked in corners of the room in large, uneven mounds. The vault was perpetually shimmering, like sunshine over an ocean, from the amount of treasure in here. Gems, jewellery, sceptres and more, everything one could possibly imagine was hoarded in here.

Even Misaki’s wealthy background couldn’t prepare her for something like this. It was breathtaking, and upon further thought, concerning since most were stolen.

Mikoto slammed the door shut behind them, and as she dusted her hands off, sighed in relief. Visiting the treasure vault always filled her with a deep sense of pride. She took her time looking around, every trinket reminding her of a different adventure.

It was easy to get lost in it — she had already dismissed Misaki’s presence, crouching in the corner to pick up a pearl necklace. Her back was turned.

Perfect, Misaki thought. This was the perfect opportunity.

Slowly, carefully, as to not make a sound, Misaki reached a hand behind her back and began pulling at the strings of her dress. With a couple of tugs, it came undone, and she slipped out of the sleeves. Her hands were sweating as she unhooked her bra and slid her underwear down to her ankles. With a faint crumple, her dress hit the floor and Misaki stepped out, completely naked.

Yes, this was the reason she wanted to visit the treasure vault. How thrilling and fitting it would be, she thought, to give herself to a pirate in a place like this.

Mikoto could be awfully oblivious at times, but in this instance, it worked in Misaki’s favour. “Misaka-san,” she purred.

Innocent and unknowing, Mikoto turned around with a puzzled frown, only for her jaw to snap open at the sight of Misaki before her — completely undressed — eyeing her with hunger. She swallowed, her reddened face looking quite pathetic in comparison.

“Sh-Shoukuhou?” She was unable to look away. “What are you…”

“I’ll get cold if you keep me waiting, you know.” Misaki tossed her hair over her shoulder, ensuring every part of her could be seen and strutted towards Mikoto.

Mikoto’s chest tightened. It was suddenly very hard to breathe, and her blush had reached her ears. She slowly stood and faced Misaki eye to eye — or at least, she tried to, but her eyes kept wandering lower. “I-I’m… not sure whether I love or hate you.”

“Think on it later,” Misaki said, her smirk growing. “because right now, you owe me.” And she shoved Mikoto to the floor, her back rattling onto a layer of gold coins.

Mikoto winced more out of surprise than pain and watched as Misaki climbed on top of her, licking her lips. Nothing had excited her more, and her body began moving on its own, pushing through her initial embarrassment.

Mikoto’s hands trailed up the side of Misaki’s thighs — there was a twang of both jealousy and admiration at its softness. Misaki’s skin was doll-like, so smooth and perfect, and Mikoto wanted to feel every inch, to taint it with red, raw scratches.

She opened her mouth to speak but Misaki was done with talking. She silenced Mikoto with a kiss, one that Mikoto eagerly leaned into as her words were lost and turned into a low moan. It was an addictive sound that Misaki wanted more of, and she decided she would do anything to get it.

Her tongue glided across Mikoto’s lips — there it was again, a quiet yelp, but she wanted more. She clawed at Mikoto’s shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, the heat between them growing immense. Soon Mikoto was laid bare as well, but not before Misaki picked up the rope from her belt.

What a stupid, reckless thing they were doing. But Misaki didn’t care — she found Mikoto’s lips once more, knowing it would be a day to remember.


End file.
